BEASTLY LOVE BOX SET: Romance Collection

by Lindsey Hart

  “Maybe. At the very least you’ll have to come for a visit.”

  “You know, I would like that. I would like that very much.”

  “Come over for a cup of tea? I’m chilled right through.”

  “Oh, honey, you know me. I’d never refuse tea.”

  Despite everything that had happened, despite how her heart was breaking and how it was killing her to sell the place her ancestors had built, Maren steered Hettie towards the back porch and their easy conversation spilled over and echoed through the quiet evening.

  CHAPTER 15

  Maren

  Maren never thought she’d see the day that the keys to her home, a place that was so much more than a roof and walls, were handed over to another person.

  She supposed she wouldn’t actually witness the event, but she was there, at her lawyer’s office, pen in hand. She expected that she’d feel a thousand conflicting emotions.

  Now that the time had come, the papers spread out in front of her, pen in her shaking hand, her lawyer, Miles Chadworth, staring at her from behind thick glasses and a grey pinstriped suit across a large desk, she felt nothing at all. She supposed she’d numbed out, after weeks of feeling so much fear, anxiety, horror and sorrow.

  Somehow, she hoped this wouldn’t happen. That somehow, she’d be spared. That some investor would come forward, a silent partner, that she’d be spared the sale and get to keep her house. It hadn’t happened.

  Miles Chadworth had called her the evening before, stating he had a buyer with a cash offer, full asking price. She’d gone above and beyond in her pricing, not able to bear selling the house for anything less than what it was worth. Being that she’d had no other offers and not a whole lot of interest, she was shocked. He’d informed her the buyer was an investor from out of town and wouldn’t be looking at the house.

  She couldn’t understand why someone would buy something they hadn’t even seen before, but she supposed people who were rich enough to own it as an investment didn’t need to set eyes on it. She just hoped they didn’t tear it down. That over the years they kept it and that one day it meant as much to someone as it meant to her.

  “Here. Sign here. And here. And right on that line there.” Chadwick rattled off the information, turning pages over one by one after she’d signed her name on each line.

  With every passing page, the pile grew smaller. It took every ounce of willpower not to jump up and throw the pen to the ground, grab up that stack of papers and look for a window to hurtle them out of. Or even better, a fire to burn them over.

  If she did that, she’d still be out of a house. The bank would take it. At least this way, she was leaving the deal with just over ten grand, at least something to start fresh on. She wasn’t out on the street, penniless, jobless and homeless.

  Maren’s eyes blurred but then focused. She stared at the name on the other side of the contract. CWG Holdings (2012) LTD. What a name for a company. Why the exact year? What did it matter? Was it when it was formed? Did the owner have so many corporations he had to start numbering them by year to keep track? Why the brackets. It just seemed so informal, so unbelievable that she was going to entrust all of her memories, her ancestor’s pasts, her entire life up to date, to someone who was buying through a shell corporation. She didn’t even know their name.

  “Maren?”

  “Sorry.” She shook her head and snapped out of her trance. Her lawyer was waiting and not patiently either. Miles wasn’t a young man. He was just over fifty and he didn’t look healthy either. He bore the sallow complexion of a man who hadn’t lived much in the sun or much in good health. She didn’t know him well, but she thought it was probably a bit of both.

  “Just sign here, on this last page and you’re done.”

  She did as he asked, though her hands trembled so badly the signature bore almost no resemblance to the rest. When she was finished, Chadworth grabbed up the pages, piled them neatly together and stuck them into a white file folder.

  My life. My entire life is there in that folder. That’s what it’s been reduced to. All those memories, all those years, the sweat and blood and tears, the joys and sorrows. It’s all right there, about to be filed away and forgotten.

  Like her. Once she moved away she’d be nothing but a memory for the people of Monterey. They might refer to her place as the ‘old so and so’ or Maren’s old house.

  She blinked hard, refusing to give in to the sudden rush of scalding tears that gathered behind her eyes and burned her nose. Her throat closed up, but she couldn’t do it. She would be strong. She would see this through. It was her own bad business decisions that got her there in the first place. She was the one who had done the renovations, which were badly needed. She’d taken out the loan, assuming business would be better. It hadn’t been.

  “Possession is set for the second of the month. That leaves you twelve days. You understand you have to be completely moved out by then.”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. I sold the place almost entirely furnished.”

  Chadworth nodded as though he’d missed that important small detail. It was all there, in that damn file folder, the few things she couldn’t bear to part with. They were specified, laid out in bold on two lines of black ink, the things that were not included in the sale.

  “Thank you for your business.” Chadworth stuck out a pale, thin hand.

  Maren reached over the desk and shook it, noting that the lawyer’s fingers were cold and clammy. She barely repressed a shudder. It was fitting, that that hand should seal the deal.

  She left the office, almost as numb as she came in. Except, where the last tiny, fleeting bubble of hope had been, there was now just an empty hole. A gaping hole that would never be filled. It was carved out by the loss of generations, by the loss of her history, her identity, her life.

  She probably shouldn’t have driven herself to the lawyer’s office. Maren tried not to be distracted on the drive home. She couldn’t let her mind wander or escape or get the best of her. It was done. The sale was over. The papers were signed and in less than two weeks, the new owners would take over a part of her life that she thought would always be hers. She thought that she’d die in that house, or at least in Monterey like her grandparents and great-grandparents.

  As she pulled up to the bed and breakfast, she saw a car parked in the graveled spaces off to the side. It was odd. She frowned as she parked on the street in front of the house. It was where she always parked. Where she’d parked since the day she’d first bought her car. She tried very hard not to think on how many generations had parked there before her.

  When Maren was finally able to blink away the tears that clouded her vision, she was shocked to look up and see a man sitting on her front steps.

  Not just any man. She recognized the broad set of his shoulders, the crown of dark hair, the handsome, chiseled features. No, not any man at all, but the man she’d confessed her love to. The man who had turned her away. Owen.

  CHAPTER 16

  Owen

  Maren. She was incredible. Even better than memory. She climbed out of her car and he knew right away, from the despondent look on her face, where she’d been. He guessed she was probably at the lawyer’s signing papers, but he wasn’t sure. He’d waited out on the front step and hadn’t had to wait long.

  “You know, you really should lock your front door.” He’d tried that first, ringing the doorbell. When she hadn’t answered, he’d gone for the knob and it turned. Though the door pushed open, he hadn’t gone in. He’d settled on the front step, lost in thought.

  Maren sidled up, eyes wide as if she couldn’t really believe that it was him. “It’s a small town,” she said uneasily. “People respect that here. They don’t intrude into other people’s homes.”

  “And what about all the people who aren’t from here? The transients passing through. You really should be more careful.”

  Maren shrugged dainty shoulders. She had on a yellow blouse and a denim skirt. I
t was casual and a far cheerier attire than her trip to the lawyer’s office warranted, as through by putting it on, she was trying to bolster her own spirits. Her fiery hair was tied back in a braid that trailed down her back. She was a vision, as she always was and she stole his breath away.

  “Yah, well. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “What does that mean?” He frowned at the lost look that stole into her eyes. He could see her abject misery all over her face and it hit him square in the chest.

  “It means that this place isn’t my problem anymore. The new owners can leave their door unlocked if they want.” She shrugged again. “Or they can lock it. I guess that will be up to them.”

  He didn’t invite her to sit down beside him, but he certainly didn’t protest either. There was room on the step. She climbed up the bottom two, thin sandals that wrapped around her ankles with braided straps making hardly a whisper of noise as she walked and stepped up.

  “The place sold then?”

  “Yes. It was only on the market for a few weeks. Some investor bought it. I hope they try and run it as a bed and breakfast and that they don’t tear it down and make some huge looming hotel or something, but I guess none of that is any of my business anymore.”

  He nodded, aware of the heat of her body, less than a few inches from his. Her thigh was so close, burning right through his jeans. He was aware of her soft, sweet scent, the dainty perfume of her skin, the natural aura of her delicate femininity. She was so beautiful. So entirely naturally radiant. It cut him to the quick that he had ever said unkind things to her. That he had hurt her. He’d watched her face change after she confessed that she loved him. He’d crushed not only her heart but her soul that day and he knew it.

  “Why are you here?” One reddish brow arched. Pale grey eyes burned into his. They were such wells of emotion he couldn’t pick out a single one, a single feeling.

  “I came because I needed to know. I needed to ask you something. If I asked, would you tell me the truth?”

  “Always.” Her face gave nothing away and her voice never wavered. He knew then, that she had always told him the truth. Always. She’d never lied to him, not that morning, not ever. She just hadn’t told him that it was her.

  “I know it was you, Maren. I know it was you that saved me.”

  She shook her head, wispy tendrils of hair dancing and swaying to a silent music around her face with the movement. “How?”

  “I just… remembered one night. I had this dream and it was so real. When I woke up, I knew it was you. I saw you in it, heard your voice. I knew that all these years I was wrong. I remembered something about Chelsea. That her hair was dry. Just the ends were wet. She couldn’t have swum out all that way and dragged me back and kept it dry.”

  “Yah, well… what are you going to do about it now? It’s too late.”

  His eyes burned into hers, willing her not to look away. He dared to reach down and take her hand. Her skin was so very soft, but she was cold, chilled, from the inside out, as the sun overhead was already hot. She pulled away with a soft, startled gasp and he let her retreat.

  “It’s not too late.”

  “It is. I’m leaving. The house is sold. In less than two weeks I won’t be here. It will be like I never existed at all and that’s all there is to it. It doesn’t matter that it was me, not Chelsea, who pulled you out of the water.”

  “She didn’t know how to swim did she?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “She didn’t know CPR either I would wager?”

  “No. She didn’t.”

  “So, you saved my life that day. How can you say that it doesn’t matter?”

  Maren’s head bent and she studied her hands, which she’d clasped in her lap. “I’m not saying that. Of course, your life matters. I’m just staying that it was semantics, who saved you. You fell in love with Chelsea and I could tell she loved you. I wasn’t about to ruin the one chance she had at happiness. Or at least, what I thought was her chance. She was my best friend. I cared about her. I loved her. I haven’t heard from her in years, but I still care. I still love her.”

  “And what about what you said the day I left? That you’ve loved me since that day?”

  She shrugged again, a delicate lift of even more delicate shoulders. He longed to run his hand over her skin, to memorize the feel of it, to remind his fingertips just how soft and wonderful she was. He longed to put his lips there, between the tiny little indent of her collarbones or shoulder blades, at the base of her neck… anywhere.

  “Yah, well, you told me that was a fairy tale.”

  “I was being an asshole.”

  “No, you weren’t. You were just being honest. Really, it doesn’t matter. We don’t know each other. We haven’t spent more than a couple days together. You can’t love someone just because you saved them from drowning and you thought about them every day after. That doesn’t make up love. It won’t get people through the hard realities of life.”

  He waited for the space of a couple hard heartbeats. His was hammering away in his chest. He wondered if hers was beating just as rapidly and as painfully. “So where are you going to go then?”

  “I don’t know. That doesn’t matter either.”

  “It does. It might. If you don’t have a destination in mind, maybe you would just like to stay.”

  “In Monterey? No. I couldn’t bear to see this house belong to someone else, with someone else living inside of it. It would break my heart.”

  “Maybe then, maybe you should just stay.”

  Her eyes flew to his face and he watched understanding dawn. It was there, clarity, followed by the sharp burst of anger. “It was you!” She jumped up, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “It was you who bought the house! That was your shell corporation.”

  “Yes. Maren… whoa. Just sit down and hear me out.” He got to his feet as she edged away, down the porch, towards the front door.

  “No! That’s just great. I hope you enjoy it, really I do.”

  “Maren…”

  “You know, possession isn’t for another twelve days. Technically you don’t own the place yet. If you’ve come here to gloat or whatever you come for, I guess you have it now. Please leave.” Her hand hit the knob and he knew in another second she’d be inside. He stepped forward.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’ll call the cops then. You’re trespassing and harassing me.”

  “Maren, come here.” He kept advancing. She pressed herself up against the solid wood front door. He knew for a fact it was unlocked and though her hand was on the knob, she never turned it, never let herself inside and slammed the door on his face, never locked him out.

  His eyes met hers and she couldn’t look away. He saw the pain there, the pain and the irrational flicker of hope that she was obviously trying so desperately not only to hide but also to tamp down.

  He reached her, after another long stride. His arms closed around her, pulling her close. She struggled, but he reached down and tipped her face up. She stilled, her breaths coming in sharp little rasps that echoed his own. She stared up at him, eyes luminous and transparent. She stared up at him with all the trust and love, anger and resistance in the world.

  Owen ran his hand along her delicate jawline. Her face was so warm, her skin so impossibly smooth, like true porcelain. God, he’d thought about her, thought about that night they’d shared, dreamed about touching her once more, kissing her just one more time.

  “The thing is, this isn’t just an investment for me. I didn’t buy your bed and breakfast to put strangers in it. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I want to run it. I tried to go back to my life. I’ve been trying for the past five years, ever since that day I just about died here, but it was never the same. I blamed Chelsea for the failure of our marriage, but the truth was, I was never in love with her. I thought I was, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t her I was connected to. I rushed into it. I thought she was the one, the one who
brought me back to life and because of that, I married her. I thought I could change and that she could change and that we’d be happy for the rest of our lives, that we’d make each other happy, but that could never happen.”

  “Why not? Why couldn’t it happen? She did love you. And I know she meant something to you.”

  “She did. I tried. I tried so hard. Maybe she did too, but in the end, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t the one for her and she wasn’t the one for me. It was you. All along, it was you.”

  “And you what? Want me to stay? What are you even trying to tell me right now, Owen, because I’m pretty confused. It was you who told me that love didn’t matter. That it wasn’t enough. It was you who walked out the door and didn’t want to learn the truth.”

  “I know. I was a fool. I was so damn foolish. I’m sorry that I hurt you. If I could go back and change that day and just listen to you, I would. I didn’t know what to do, other than this. I couldn’t come back here and have this conversation with you until I’d done this for you.”

  “What? Bought my home?”

  “No. Maren, don’t you see? I bought your house to save it for you. I don’t want to be a partner. I don’t want to be an investor. I just want to be with you. I want to see if this could work. I’ve always felt drawn here. It never made sense. I dreamed about that night all the time. I thought it was haunting me, but really, I was just trying to remember. To remember what actually happened. I’ll sign the house back over to you tomorrow. I’ll get the lawyer to draw up the papers again.”

  “You could have just done it in the first place.”

  He shrugged, and he had to offer a sheepish smile. “Maybe, but this somehow seemed more dramatic. It seemed like if I showed up here and swept you into my arms and told you what I’d done and offered you your house back that you would agree to my crazy proposal and you would tell me that you still loved me, or that you weren’t even fully sure what that meant, but that you wanted to find out.”